Simple as Pie
by Sushi Chi
Summary: A series of oneshots. "Hey, see if they’ve got any pie. Bring me some pie! I love me some pie."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own. Sad isn't it? I think so. You know what else I don't own? A TV that gets the CW. I also don't know anyone who gets it. Kinda pisses me off. I don't even get to watch season four! Okay, I'm going to stop ranting now.  
A/N: Alright this is going to be a series of oneshots. The first bit here isn't really a story though. Just sets it up, I guess. Many thanks to my beta, Amarintha. I really can't thank her enough. Honestly. You all should go and thank her as well.**

Contrary to popular belief, pie is far from simple. Pie can be very complex. Their are so many aromas that extend from it to the many ingredients that go into making a pie. The feelings that occur when a pie is consumed and the many different tastes and types of pie there are. How much time could be spent in making a homemade from scratch pie or how little time it could take if one was bought at the frozen foods area of a grocery store. Pie is not simple.

Not to mention everyone loves pie. There is just something about pie that makes people think of home. Safety and love. When people even look at pie - no when they think about pie they are often overcome with a feeling of ease. Pies can be found at almost any holiday. People will even make excuses to eat pie. Break their diets for that one slice of pie. Something about the desert just makes the heart beat a little faster, makes the taste buds remember the last piece of pie they had.

There are shops that are just for pie. Order any kind there, find the ingredients and pie cook books. Some people travel state to state and have a piece of pie in each town they are in. Search for that one perfect slice of pie and defeats all the competitors. Fairs often have a pie eating contest. Mainly because who would want to eat anything else?

No. Pie is not simple. Not at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Standard still applies  
A/N: Whoo! First story of the oneshots here. Makes me happy. Please do enjoy. As always, huge thanks to Amarintha for being my beta. Thanks Amarintha!**

Mary was starting to give Dean solid foods. The little tyke sure did enjoy stuffing his mouth and chewing the food so much more than his previous meals. But she was also taking it slow. Nothing too chewy. Or too hard. And the boy sure did enjoy the sweeter foods, the ones with many rich flavors. But she made sure to give him more of the food that would make him grow up all big and strong. She kept Dean away from the sugary and sweet deserts.

So, when she came into the kitchen and found John sneaking a piece of chocolate pie to his son she was slightly angry at him. This would be ruining the little guy's appetite and then he wouldn't eat his meal. Besides, John knew that she didn't like Dean eating a lot of sweets. She was worried about her son. She had seen all the other kids his age that got to eat anything they wanted. Lethargic is the word that described those kids. Dean ran circles around them. Plus whenever Dean got a sweet he felt special. Like he got a treat. Because that's what they were: treats. Sure, when Dean got older she'd let him have more, but she was so worried about his health. John said she worried too much.

But when Mary saw the look of pure delight as Dean opened his small mouth and the look of bliss that ran across the small boy's face as he took a bite of that chocolate pie. She forgot to be mad at John. Dean's face had just glowed.

She smiled to herself watching the small moment between father and son. Waiting for the right moment to make her presence known, she watched the two. When the slice of pie was almost gone between her two boys, she made a noise and watched as John turned around. At first his face was one of fright, then he tried to look innocent. As if he hadn't just gave their son some pie. "Hey, Mary," He paused, "You look wonderful today."

She frowned a bit, trying to appear as if she was upset at him, though secretly she was amused by John trying to appear guiltless, "Did Dean just eat that slice of pie?"

". . .No."

Dean smiled, his nose scrunching up and eyes twinkling, "Pie!" He raised his hands up over his head, very excited. Running his tongue over his lips to get more of the flavor left on them, "Good!"

Mary laughed, showing that she didn't blame John any. After all who could pass up seeing Dean this happy? Maybe they'd start to have pie more often.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Standard still applies  
A/N: First off thank Amarintha! She's a great beta, huh? Also thanks to everyone who reviewed! Made my day with the reviews. On with the story?**

"Dean?" Mary asked, squatting down next to her three year old son, "Do you know what day it is?"

Dean's face crumpled up, trying to think, "Thursday?"

"Yep. And what is Thursday?"

"Pie day!" The small boy squealed in delight. Pie had soon become a staple in the Winchester household with Mary baking one once a week. She couldn't deprive her son of the one thing he seemed to enjoy the most. It made him so happy, and he shared it. He wouldn't want to eat any of it before his parents got some. Mary had been taken aback the first time Dean made sure both she and John had their pie. Children at that age usually do not want to share at all and here Dean was sacrificing his beloved pie for those around him. He always wanted to make sure they got as much as they wanted; even if they had wanted to eat the whole pie. Of course they never took the whole pie.

"What kind of pie do you want today?" Mary asked.

Scrunching up his little face, freckles moving as he did so, Dean replied, "Apple!"

Smile tugging her at lips she nodded, "That sounds perfect. We'll have to go to the store and pick up some more apples though."

Dean giggled, he loved going to the store with his mom. He quickly ran over to his coat and tugged it on, "Momma, your coat too!" He told her, eyeing her bulging stomach, "Keep 'im warm."

Mary smiled and nodded, "Yes, we've got to keep the baby warm too." She gently took Dean's hand after putting on her own jacket. Stepping outside she used her free hand to pull her jacket closer to her body, the wind was chilly on this particular autumn day. Smiling down at her boy she noticed he had copied her move, pulling his coat closer as well.

Making sure Dean was secure in the car she set out towards the local grocery store. It was a short drive, on nice summer days they would walk there. Glancing into her review mirror, Mary saw Dean's eyes half-mast. Pulling into a parking spot she got out and nudged her boy. His eyes flew open, "Momma!"

"Hey, Dean." She said getting him out of the car, "Ready to go get some apples?"

A small yawn escaped the boy's lips, "Yeah." Taking her hand they made their way through the store. Dean rubbed his nose with a small fist as they made it to the apples, "Can we buy green ones?"

Mary smiled, "Of course, kiddo." She grabbed a sack and handed it to Dean, "Hold it steady."

Nodding, he changed his stance so that he could hold the sack which was soon to be full of apples, better. He counted them as they went into the sack, getting Mary to smile down at him.

"Ready?" She asked, tying a knot in the bag and handing it back to her son.

Dean nodded, holding the sack up off the ground. They made their way to the check out lane in which Dean promptly handed the sack to Mary and then hid behind her legs.

The check out girl smiled down at Dean, "He sure is cute."

Nodding Mary got her money out, "Thank you. He is sometimes shy around strangers, though."

"I understand. My niece is the same way," She rang up the fruit and waved goodbye to Dean as they made their way back to the car.

"Ready to make some pie?" Mary asked as they drove home, to which Dean started humming and once in a while singing his 'pie song'.

Once home Dean pushed a chair to the counter and stood on the seat, so that he could easily access the ingredients for the apple pie. He watched as his mom peeled and cut the apples putting the slices into a bowel. Dean's job was to put the spices into the bowl with the apples as Mary got the pie crust ready. Munching happily on a slice of apple he sneaked out of the bowl he watched as Mary poured the apples into the pie crust. Dean put down his apple and dipped his hands in the flour so that he could pinch the top and bottom pie crusts together. His tongue found it's way over his top lip as he concentrated on getting the crusts fit together just right. Then he got more flour on his hands as he pushed the edge of the crust into a pretty shape.

Dean liked the feel of the crust in his hands, being able to mold it. Looking up into Mary's eyes he felt as if he was doing a good job. As if he was the best at making the pretty shape with the edge of the crust. Trying to be very stealthy he put one of his hands back in the flour then he reached up and put his hand on Mary's cheek.

Giggling he watched as his mom cut the vents into the top of the pie, she turned and smiled to him as she put the pie in the oven, "Well, now we've only go to wait."

"Momma," Dean giggled.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" Mary asked, playing along with her boy.

Pointing at her check he said, "You're cheek."

Mary's hand went up to her cheek, "Oh. What do I have here? Is it by chance some flour in a shape of a little hand?"

Dean's forehead scrunched up, "My hand's not little!"

Mary put her hand on the flour on top of Dean's head, "Well, now you've got something on your head."

Giggling Dean brushed the top of his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Standard still applies  
A/N: Okay. I feel as if I need to let you all know that I have lost my internet for a short time. So, I can go ahead and write for this story but I can't get it to my beta. Or at least I can't do that easily. And I'm lazy. But hopefully the 'net will be back for me very soon. Currently I'm at my sister's house (coz I know you were wondering). So I have found a way to cheat and post the next chapter and if needed I can cheat and do the one after that but then I can't post anymore until I've got my internet back. So, just letting you all know that this story may go through a phase of not being updated regularly. Does that make sense?  
Thanks for everyone who reviewed. You make my day.  
And I need to give a horrifingly large amount of thanks to my beta, Amarintha! So hords of thanks are being bombarded to you!  
On with the story?**

Dean shut himself up in his brother's room. Of course it wasn't actually Sammy's room. No. That room was no longer there. They were staying at some friend's house. Thankfully some friend's of John's had a spare bedroom and let the family stay in their time of need. Sammy was taking a nap and Dean liked the quiet. It made it easier to think that nothing bad had happened. That come next Thursday he and his mom would make a pie for their family.

He wiped away a tear that threatened to roll down his face. He was never going to make a pie with his mom again. Glancing at Sammy he sighed a sigh that sounded much too old for his four years. He didn't want to think about anything. Not about what happened, not about his memories, and not about what was going to happen the future. He had heard his dad talk to some Jim guy over the phone. It seemed as if they'd visit him sometime soon.

Dean found himself jumping slightly when the door creaked open. John was rubbing his hand over his face with a sigh that sounded very much like the one Dean had let out but a moment ago. His dad walked over to Sammy, making sure he was still alright and asleep. Walking over towards Dean, John gave a sad smile. Dean heard the creak in John's bones as he sat down next to his son. Pulling Dean closer to him, John felt a bit better, knowing that he hadn't lost everything in the fire. Being pulled closer to John, Dean felt a bit better, feeling safer, as if he was loved.

After sitting like that for a length, John let out another sigh, "We'd better get downstairs, kiddo. I'm sure we're being missed."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, he wouldn't be missed. He'd been hiding in Sammy's room basically from the start.

"Okay, Okay. I'll be missed and I'll miss you being near me." John said, running his hand through his hair. "People have been asking where you've been. I think you should come down with me. The people down there are paying their respects to your mother and because of that we need to show them respect."

Dean looked down at his shoes. Why did he have to go down? Why did people have to come? It didn't make the pain and hurt go away. It didn't bring his momma back. Swallowing he nodded his head, agreeing to join John downstairs with the people. His dad needed him, so he would be there for him.

John got up slowly, wondering about what Dean must be thinking. He once heard that kids don't understand the concept of death until they were about seven years old. Dean was only four. Did he think that Mary was going to come back? That on Thursday she'd stroll in as if this were all a bad nightmare and make a pie as if to say she was sorry for putting them through this? God, he hoped not. How do you explain to your child that his mother just wasn't going to come back?

Just then, Dean grabbed John's hand and nodded, as if to say that it was going to be alright. Of course that could have been John's wishful thinking.

The two slowly descended the stairs towards the quiet murmurs of the people. Dean held on tighter to John's hand. He didn't want to lose his other parent and he felt that if he could just keep hold of his dad that he wouldn't get lost. Sticking close to his dad, Dean mainly stared at his shoes, glancing up at the occasional person.

John was currently talking to a man that Dean didn't know, but he looked up anyway. The man was holding a small plate and he was eating something. Squinting, he noticed that the man was eating pie. Narrowing his eyes, he became upset. Why was this man eating pie? Why would anyone even bring pie? It was like a sick joke. Taunting him. Teasing him. It wasn't fair.

John noticed Dean eyeing the pie and he had misunderstood the look on his boy's face. Sighing to himself John reasoned that Dean would be hungry, "Why don't you go and get something to eat?" He let go of his son's small hand and lightly pushed him towards the table with a wide spectrum of food.

Dean walked towards the table slowly, he hadn't wanted to leave his dad's side. But John asked him to do something and Dean didn't want to let him down. Couldn't let his father disappointed or mad at him. He had heard stories about how some parents sent bad kids away. That was something that he didn't want, Dean wanted to be with his family.

Glancing at all the food Dean eyed the pie. He just couldn't wrap his head around why someone would bring that. Throwing it in his face, making the significant hole in his heart grow larger. Feeling tears well up in his eyes he wiped them away with an angry fist. Quickly looking around to see if anyone was watching, he ducked underneath the dark tablecloth. Dean sat on the ground, his knees pulled up to his petite chest, breathing heavily. This wasn't right. The people forcing him away from his family. He couldn't be with Sammy because his dad needed him, his dad sending him away to eat, which was something he really didn't want to do. He didn't want to eat. The thought of eating the pie up on the table made his stomach contract, bringing the tears back to his eyes.

If only he could get rid of that pie.

Knowing full well he shouldn't do it, he reached his child's hand and gripped the dark cloth in a fist and he started to pull. If his mom couldn't eat it, then no one else should either. It wasn't fair. He would grow while his mom wouldn't. She wouldn't even be able to see him grow. He pulled some more. His friends had moms. Why couldn't he keep his? He hadn't been bad, right? Pulling some more, he stifled a sob. Maybe he had been bad. Maybe that's why she died. And it was his fault that Sammy would never know Mary or help make the pies. His fault that John would never get to share one of those grown up smiles with Mary. It was his fault. Giving the cloth another tug he knew that he shouldn't be doing this. But the thought of the floor knowing the mess that he felt inside himself made Dean feel slightly human. He didn't feel real anymore. Not without his mother.

One final tug and the some of the food fell to the ground with a resounding crash. All the quiet murmurs of the people stopped, just for a second. Then they sounded again. Dean had thought that he'd feel better after the floor felt his mess, but he didn't. He felt the hole in his chest and it didn't shrink, if anything it grew again. What surprised Dean was that he soon found arms around him and he was in the air.

Dean looked up to see his father's face. Expecting a look of disappointment, Dean was surprised to see a calm face and kind yet sad eyes. The eyes that John had since Mary's death. Dean licked his lips and looked down at the floor. He eyed the pie once again, only this time it was upside down on the floor. Much like his life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Standard still applies  
A/N: Well, you all will be glad to know my internet is back. Yay for that. Yay for an update, yes? By the by, reviews are love. Huge thanks to Amarintha for bein' my beta. She does great work, yes?**

Dean had his tongue turned up, tip sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his drawing. He wanted to make it really good for his dad so that maybe they'd stop pestering him. John and Pastor Jim, along with a few others, had been trying to get him to say something, anything, for so long now. But Dean wouldn't do it. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to hear his voice. Or his laugh. Hearing his voice made him think of the last time he spoke to his mother. He hadn't told Mary that he loved her before he went to sleep. Not like he usually did. Just a 'goodnight, Mama' and that's all.

He hadn't spoken since then. 'Mama' was the last word he had spoken. Dean thought that maybe if he said something her name would be lost. Feeling that if he were to say another name he'd loose her. Never to be found again. Dean didn't want to lose anymore of his mother.

Getting a new color for his picture, he ignored the pitying look that Pastor Jim always gave him. Ignored his dad and Pastor Jim's heated argument over him. Ignored the look in his dad's eyes, a look of disappointment. Swallowing dryly, he tried to block out the hushed fight the two men where having. The one that they always had about him.

"You don't need to force Dean to talk." Pastor Jim said, giving the Dean that look once again.

"He isn't going to talk any other way, Jim. It's been months and he hasn't spoken a word. I need to hear his voice," John replied, eyes pleading for the Pastor to understand.

"He'll talk when he's ready. What we need to do is be patient and just keep asking."

"We've been doing that!" John exploded, making Dean flinch at the noise, his crayon making a jiggled line. John glanced at his son, then spoke in a quieter, hushed tone, "And that isn't workin' too well, now is it?"

"Well I just don't see how you can force someone to talk," Pastor Jim shot back, "What's your plan?"

At this John took a breath and deflated, "I have no idea," Running a hand over his face he glanced at Dean with resignation in his eyes.

Putting down his crayon he solemnly peered at his drawing. The dog looked a bit lopsided. Maybe that's because most of his spots were on his left side. Shrugging, Dean glanced at the jiggled line. It ruined the picture. Running his tongue in-between his lips, Dean got an idea. He could get rid of the jiggled line. It was very simple. The jiggled line wouldn't look out of place if it were the dog's leash. Feeling a small smile tug at his lips he glanced down at his now finished drawing, glad that the jiggled line hadn't messed it up as much as he originally thought. He started putting his crayons away. Proving that he could take care of himself. Take care of Sammy.

He needed to take care of himself and Sammy. It helped him keep his mind off what was happening. John would try and not talk about it in front of him, but Dean was quiet and went unnoticed most of the time. He had heard the grown-ups talk about what was really out there. Some nights Dean was afraid. More afraid than he had been after his mama died. And it was apparent that John would be able to save himself from these monsters, but Sammy couldn't. Dean always needed to know where his brother was, make sure that he was safe. 'Course he also made sure his dad was safe, but he wasn't as worried about it. After all, John was always going to be there. Always.

Feeling the tears well up in his eyes, Dean stopped his thoughts. He didn't need to be thinking these things right now. Sammy was safe, his dad was right there. Everything was fine. But why didn't it feel fine? Glimpsing down at his puppy he noticed that even it looked sad. His anger started to make itself known now, mixing with the sorrow. His expression turned into a glower as he scrunched up his paper into a ball. Why did this have to happen?

John watched as his elder son wrecked his drawing. Feeling a tug at his heart, he went over and sat down next to Dean, "Hey Deano. What'd you draw?" He picked up the ball of paper and flattened it out, "I like this puppy. He looks lonely though. Do you want to draw him a friend?"

Dean kept his eyes on the floor, breathing even.

"Does this pup have a name?"

Dean licked his lips but didn't say anything.

John sighed and ran a hand over his face again, "Okay, Dean. Okay." They sat there for a few moments, Dean's mind trying to stay blank and John's mind thinking about what to do. That is when a thought struck him, "I'm gonna go fix us some lunch, okay kiddo?" He didn't wait for a reply, he knew there wouldn't be one.

Dean felt his father get up and watched him move out of the room and into the kitchen. Once again, looking down at his puppy he wondered about the answers to his father's questions. Does the puppy need a friend? What was the puppy's name?

Deciding that the dog did need a friend, Dean got his crayons back out and started drawing another. Figuring that this could pass time while his dad fixed him something to eat.

Before long John called Dean into the kitchen. He hoped his plan would work. He needed to hear his son's voice again. He needed Dean back. It seemed like the fire not only took his wife, but also his eldest. John did feel horrible that he had to resort to this level so that Dean would talk. At least, he hoped Dean would talk.

Dean walked into the kitchen when the aroma hit him. His stomach started knotting at the thought of what the food might be. Swallowing he prayed that he was wrong, though he doubted it. He would know that smell from anywhere.

"Dean, son. Please talk to me. Say something," John started, getting on his knees so that he was level with the child, "If you say something, anything, I'll give you a treat. Just, please." He had never thought that he would have resort to beggary and bribery to get Dean to talk.

Dean's eyes went to the table where the pie stood, cooling off. He could still see the steam rise from it. Shaking his head, he backed away. He didn't want pie. He didn't need to talk in order to get the pie. Turning 'round he ran out of the room and away from it. John groaned and ran his hand through his hair. That did not go the way he wanted it to.

About an hour later Dean peered around the corner into the kitchen. Soundlessly walking in he made sure no one was around before he grabbed the pie off the table. Holding it close to his body, he walked towards the door. He had to get rid of the pie. Quickly. Stomach still in knots he stepped onto the sidewalk, bare feet sounding on the rough concrete. When he was far enough away he let his tears start to fall.

John was outside when he heard the door open, knowing that Pastor Jim was with some of his church members, he looked to see who it was. He was taken aback when he saw Dean clutching the pie. So much for giving the kid pie after he spoke. If Dean ate it all now, they're be nothing to bribe with. What shocked him even further is when he saw his young son throw the pie on the ground with such force that it seemed to explode. John was running towards his son before he realized it, "Dean! Dean!"

Dean didn't look up as he let a sob escape his lips, kicking at the pie on the dirty ground. He was frustrated and it seemed like his life was never going to make sense again. Making a fist he punched at the pie on the unforgiving ground. Biting back a scream he felt his skin break as it made contact with the concrete which lay beneath the pie. Seeing his tears mix with the small bit of blood and the destroyed pie he fell to the hardened ground.

By the time John reached Dean, the boy was curled up on himself, softly sobbing next to the smashed pie. Slowing his pace, he knelt down next to his son. He quietly picked Dean up and held him close. Rocking back and forth, John formed a mantra, "It's going to be alright, Deano. It's all gonna be okay."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Standard still applies****  
A/N: Alright, in between last chapter and this chapter, my story 'Listen and Remember' goes there. Though, you can read this chapter (and the ones after this one) without reading 'Listen and Remember'. There are some mentions of my other story in here, just to let you know. Does that all make sense? I hope so.  
As always, large amount of thanks to my beta, Amarintha. **

Dean was looking over the vast amount of books at Bobby's. There were so many, the stacks were taller than him and teetered when the adults walked around. He was half afraid that one day one of the mounds would fall over on him or Sammy. And he didn't think that'd be very much fun.

Running his tongue in between his lips he turned and saw John trying to get Sammy to stop crying. It wasn't going too well. Bobby was hiding out doing research so that he wouldn't have to mess with the youngest Winchester. Dean didn't blame him, he knew that Bobby wasn't used to kids. Walking to up Bobby, Dean cleared his throat, "Thirsty."

Bobby jumped a bit, still not used to Dean talking. Though he wasn't talking much. But still, the kid was talking. He remembered that he was the first person to hear Dean talk again. He had been thirsty that night too, what with talking again. It had aggravated his throat. "'Kay. Be right back." And with that Bobby went to fetch the small child some water.

Dean's green orbs flashed to the book Bobby had been bent over. Taking a gander at what it said, he found out that in order to kill some demigods they had to be pierced with a wooden stake through the heart. Raising an eyebrow he wondered how stupid the demigod would have to be for it to let you get near it with a wooden stake.

Before Dean could read anymore, he found himself picked up and placed aside, "Drink your water, Dean." He held the glass out.

Dean took it and eyed the book once again, "They're stupid?"

Bobby's face scrunched up, "Who?"

Dean pointed at the book which made Bobby sigh, "I know you think you're all grown up, but your dad would have my hat if he knew you were reading this stuff." Bobby took of his hat and put it on Dean's small head.

Dean rolled his eyes, his dad knew Dean was aware of what was out there. He had already saved John's life once by knowing. Taking a drink of his water he said, "But they've gotta be stupid."

Giving a half smirk, Bobby turned and faced his small friend, "And why do you say that?"

Licking his lips, Dean continued, "If I were one I wouldn't let people with wooden stakes near me."

Bobby gave out a hearty chuckle. Kid was right. Shaking his head, he noted that was one of the longest sentences he'd heard from Dean. Grabbing his hat back, he said, "Why don't you go help your dad with Sammy."

Shrugging, he sat his glass down and went into the room where John was trying to calm Sammy down. He ducked when a stuffed animal flew by his head. "Dammit Sammy!" John cursed, "Please calm down!"

Young Sammy half glared at his father, and started crying again. John sighed and ran his hand over his face. He was out of ideas. Gave the kid his favorite toys, which were promptly thrown at his very own head, gave 'im food which was also thrown at his very own head, and had tried making made funny faces at him. But nothing was working.

Sam saw his older brother walk into the room, "Dean! Dean!" He squealed in delight.

Dean smiled and walked up to his brother, handing him the toy that had been thrown.

Which Sammy frowned at and dropped it on the floor, "No!" He cried out, going back into his fit.

John glanced at his eldest, "Do you have any ideas?"

Dean shook his head.

"You're very helpful," John joked, nudging Dean with a smirk found at the corners of his mouth. Dean had been simpler at Sammy's age. When Dean had been upset John just handed him over to Mary. Thoughtfully chewing on his lip, he continued down that line of thinking. Because Mary wasn't always there. What did he do when Mary wasn't there? How did he get Dean to stop crying?

His smirk turned into a full grin, "Hey Bobby!"

Footsteps sounded along with a gruff, "Yeah?"

"Can you watch Dean n' Sammy?"

"You're leaving?" a small, quiet voice asked.

John was getting used to his son talking again. Every time he heard Dean's voice John felt a little better. Turned out the fire hadn't taken his boy as well. "Just for a little bit. I'm gonna go and grab something that will hopefully calm Sammy down."

Dean thought this through and nodded, as though giving his consent for his father to leave. Bobby meanwhile just waved his hand, saying that he was fine with it too. The eldest in the room then sat down next to the two Winchester boys and sighed. Sammy continued crying and Dean blinked at him. "See if you can get 'im quiet." Bobby gave a nod in Sammy's direction.

Dean got up and walked towards his younger brother, whose cries slowed down as he got closer. Giving Sammy a small smile he tried to comfort his brother by a hug. Only to be pushed away by small arms. Sighing Dean stepped back from his brother. Obviously he didn't want any affection.

Maybe Sammy wanted to color?

Bobby watched as the middle Winchester left the room. Sighing he hoped it wasn't now up to him to calm the little one down. Luckily for Bobby, Dean came back in brandishing his crayons and paper. He watched as Dean sat the blank paper down in front of Sammy. Sammy slowed his crying once again, the tears hitting the white paper. Handing over the box of crayons, Dean smiled, sure that this would work.

Bobby had to stifle a chuckle when the youngest dumped the box of crayons out and started wailing again at full force. Dean's shoulders slumped as he grabbed the box from his brother and started picking up the crayons again. Bobby had noticed that there was a certain order to where they went in the box. He always seemed too meticulous when it came to his crayons.

By the time Dean had all the crayons put away Bobby was starting to get a headache. He hoped that either John came back with a miracle or Dean found something that would shut Sammy up.

Dean meanwhile was running out of ideas. Though Sammy had been crying for a while now. Maybe he was thirsty? Like he had been earlier? Going into the other room he picked up his all but forgotten glass of water and handed it over to Sammy, smiling.

Sammy eyed the glass of water and turned it upside down. He then threw the cup at Bobby's head. Which got a smirk from Dean and an eye roll from the adult. As Dean got a towel, Bobby decided it was his turn to try. Walking up to Sammy he grunted, "Kid, you've gotta stop soon to breath." Which seemed to make the child to cry out even louder.

As Dean finished getting the water cleaned up, John walked into the room. "Fer chrissakes John! What took you so long?" Bobby nearly yelled, grumbling as he went back to his research in the other room.

Dean was curious to what his father brought. What could calm Sammy down? Was it magical? Dean had learned some of this new world where magic seemed real. After all, in the world he knew before salt didn't stop the monsters; now salt could stop them and keep his family safe. Peering at the box in John's hand he knew what it was when the smell hit his nose. Pie. His father brought pie?

John opened the box and cut a slice, which caused Sammy to slow down his wailing in order to see what his dad was doing. Sammy was surprised when John sat the slice in front of him. Hesitantly he stopped crying altogether and tasted the pie. A smile spread across the small boy's lips. This stuff was good.

Dean's mouth nearly dropped open. Sammy was quiet. Sammy was happy. Sammy had pie. The pie had calmed his brother down. But he didn't like pie. Though that did smell really good. It smelled like home. His mother's image shone in his mind, more clearly than ever before. This made him feel both alone and yet loved. He held onto the loved feeling, it grew. Inching towards his father and the pie, Dean thought about the food. It smelled good. And it brought back good memories. Pie used to make him sad and now for some reason it made it seem like his mom was closer to him than before. And besides, it made Sammy happy. So pie couldn't be that bad, could it?

"You want a slice, Deano?" John asked, hoping that this would make Dean cheerful as well as Sammy. A grin spread across John's face when Dean nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Standard still applies  
A/N: Thought I should update this. Makes you happy? If it does, reviews are a great way to show that happiness. Uh. Normally I don't post until I have another chapter written, but I haven't had time to write more, and I really wanted to post this. But hopefully I'll have time soon to write more, yeah?  
Amarintha is my beta, and she's a great one.  
Also, the teacher's last name is what my mom came up with. So, thanks to her!**

"Dean?" Ms. Swelfield bent down to her student's size, "Why aren't you making and invite for your mom?"

Dean looked up from the book he had been reading, "My mom isn't coming to our party, Ms. Swelfield." And with that he started reading again.

Ms. Lucy Swelfield hadn't been teaching Dean long, but she was getting used to his quiet yet precise answers. He wouldn't elaborate on anything unless you asked him to and he tended to keep a wary eye on his peers. "Well, I'm sure she'd like an invite even though she can't make it to our Mother's Day celebration. I bet she'll even put it up on the fridge at home."

Dean ran his tongue over his lips, thinking this through;, "How about if I make an invite for my dad? He might be able to make it."

"Dean, this is a Mother's Day party. Your dad can come to our Father's Day party though." She smiled down at him wondering why this small child seemed so mature, why he thought that his mother wouldn't come, why she wouldn't even want an invite? What kind of woman was Mrs. Winchester? She must be a career woman. Probably not home much.

"Ms. Swelfield, my mom can't make it," the small boy spoke quieter than usual, "I know you're bein' a good teacher n' all but she just won't be able to come." Dean tried to make her understand without knowing what happened. The tended to pity him he hated that, he didn't need them trying to take care of him; he had his dad. He hated those looks, the way they treated him different than the other kids.

Lucy took a sudden intake of breath, was this boy trying to tell her that his mom was dead? Or missing? Did she skip out on her family? Swallowing she nodded, "Alright Dean, you go ahead and read."

Dean watched his teacher walk away with that look in her eyes. That look that all adults gave him after they figured it out. Sighing he went back to reading.

Dean would have loved to skip out on the Mother's Day party, but he knew that his dad would not have in him missing school. Trying to think it though while reading he had no idea how to get out of it. He was going to be stuck in a class full of his peers and their moms. Sinking lower in his chair he sighed. Each student would introduce their mom and say a bit about her. Except Dean. He wouldn't be able to introduce her. And people would notice that. Ask him questions and he'd have to either ignore or tell the story to one person, then another, and yet another. Always recounting the tale.

So at the end of the day, Dean had made his decision. Walking up to his teacher he cleared his throat, "Ms. Swelfield? I was wondering if even though my mom won't be here, if I could still talk about her to the class?"

Lucy smiled down at her young student, "Of course, Dean. I know I would love to hear about your mom." Dean nodded, staring down at his shoes. "If you want, you can invite your dad. I sure he'd like to hear what you have to say." Dean looked up and nodded again, half shrugging.

The day had finally come and Dean made sure he had it covered, glancing up at John, he nodded. John got his car keys and took Sammy's hand, knowing that Dean wouldn't be able to hold his hand. Dean carefully made it over to the Impala, both hands holding it tightly. He could not drop it. If he dropped it, everything would be ruined.

As the three Winchester boys made it into the classroom, all of the mother's heads turned in their direction. They all glanced at each other, wondering why Dean brought his father and not his mother. It had been made clear to them that only mothers were allowed.

The kids went up the front of the classroom with their mom and talked about her. Of course, like any good class, they went alphabetically. Winchester being the last one. By the time he got up there, all the mothers were wondering what the motherless child would say.

Upon his turn, Dean carried it up with him. John and Sammy stayed in their seats. Shaking he turned to face the crowd. Running his tongue between his lips, Dean uncovered it. "I don't remember my mom that well," his voice very quiet, staring down at the pie, "but I remember that before she died my mom and me would make a pie every week. So, when I help make or when I eat them I can remember her better." His green eyes looked up and saw how quiet the room was. Scanning the room, he saw the other mothers giving him that look. But he wasn't interested them, his eyes met his dad's eyes and so he continued, "I loved her very much and I think about her a lot. So, I brought some pie today. I was hoping I could share it with all of you." He looked out at the crowd again, breaking the eye contact with his father.

Lucy cleared her throat, "That would be wonderful, Dean. I'm sure we'd all love to have some pie."

Dean nodded and gave his teacher the pie he and John had made that morning. Sitting down next to the remnants of his family, he smiled sadly down at his slice of pie.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Standard still applies****  
A/N: Yay everyone. I finally got time to write out more. I do hope you all enjoy this chapter. And the story in general, of course. Uh. Review are welcome (and often help me want to write more) and whatnot. Heh. Many thanks to Amarintha, my beta. As always, much credit goes to her for fixing the crap that I write. Mm. Yeah. I think that's all.  
Enjoy.**

In a few days, it would be Dean's birthday. He was excited, just as every kid is for their birthday. Their temporary house was bustling with activity. Sammy had started school and loved it, John would go on hunts that were close to home. So, when John had taken his eldest son aside, Dean was surprised that they had time to talk.

"So, Dean." John smiled down, "What kind of cake would you like for your birthday?"

Biting his lip, Dean's face scrunched up thinking. It had to be perfect. He didn't want to disappoint Sammy or his dad. Had to pick the perfect cake, so that they'd both love it and help eat it. An idea struck the small child, "I don't want a cake." He said.

John raised his eyebrows in surprise, "You don't want cake. But Dean, you deserve cake on your birthday." He had hoped that Dean would agree to have a treat. A cake was pretty much all John could afford at the moment. The boy was probably not going to get any presents, and if he did, they'd be small and cheap things.

Dean's face broke out with a grin, "I want pie instead!"

John let out a hearty laugh. Of course, Dean loved pie again. Pie for Dean's birthday sounded so real. So natural. Still chuckling, he asked, "Alright, kiddo. What kind of pie do you want?"

Tilting his head to the side, Dean thought about it. There were so many choices. More choices than with cake. Licking his lips before answering, he said, "Rhubarb."

John smiled warmly, "Alright. Rhubarb pie for your birthday. I think I can manage that." He paused and winked at his son, "Maybe we'll even get some ice cream."

Time passed and the day had arrived. Dean's birthday. He woke up happily, sun shining through the window onto his bed. He glanced over at Sammy's bed and saw his brother still asleep, looking peaceful. Glancing at the clock, he realized he should wake up his little brother so that they could get ready for school.

"Sammy? Time to get ready." Dean grinned as Sam started to wake up. Sammy rubbed his eyes as he sat up. "Come on, we still have some Lucky Charms."

After breakfast, John got up. He had been up late last night. Researching. "Morning boys." He said through a yawn as he scratched his unshaven chin. He picked up the box of cereal and poured himself a bowl. The three Winchesters sat around the table in silence, eating their Lucky Charms.

John nor Sammy mentioned that it was Dean's birthday.

Dean sighed as he walked into school. It seemed as if his family had forgotten. Head low, he sat down in his desk when the teacher walked over. "Dean? Did you bring any cookies?"

He looked up and blinked, "Cookies?"

"Normally on their birthday, the kids bring in cookies or cupcakes, so that we can celebrate it." She said, bending down to his level, "You didn't bring anything?"

He swallowed, "No. I didn't know that I had to bring treats."

She smiled, "It's okay, Dean. I might be able to pick something up today. Then we could have it after lunch?" She could go during her break.

Dean nodded, "Sure. If it's not any trouble."

"Oh, no. No trouble." She got up and headed back to her desk. She believed that every child should be able to celebrate their birthday. The problem was that around ten in the morning, she fell ill and had to leave. She hoped she wasn't letting Dean down too much. After all, he was probably having a party after school with cake, ice cream, balloons, games, presents and all with his friends and family. A normal birthday party for any kid.

After lunch Dean glanced up at the substitute teacher. A small man who had a nervous tick. His eye twitched and all Dean could do was stare at it. Seeing what it would spell out if it were twitching in Morse Code. And one thing was for sure: it was not spelling out 'Happy Birthday, Dean.'

When the day was over, and Dean showed up at his place, Sammy right by his side, talking a million miles per minute about his day at school, he was disappointed when his dad was reading some book about something supernatural. Didn't they realize it was his birthday? Did they both forget?

After and hour of being home and watching the television, John looked up from his book, "Hey, Dean. Could you go and get the mail?"

Dean nodded wordlessly and went outside. The wind whipped around him as he opened the mailbox. And surprise of all surprises, there was nothing there. Not that they normally get mail. No one ever mailed them. Sighing, he made his way back inside.

Though when he opened the door, a smile overtook Dean's face. There was his dad holding a pie and Sammy with a small banner that said 'Happy Birthday'. Dean felt himself blink back tears. They remembered. They remembered his birthday.

"Surprise!" Sammy squealed, "Dad told me not to tell you 'bout this and I said I didn't like keeping secrets from you but he said we'd let you in on the secret and so I said it was alright then."

"Happy birthday, Son." John said warmly, as they all moved to the kitchen, "How 'bout we all have a nice slice of Rhubarb Pie?"

Dean nodded, not knowing what to say. It was just so perfect. He had his family there. His whole family. John and Sammy. And the pie. He always felt like his mom was with him when he ate pie. "Thanks, Dad."


End file.
